701 days!
That’s how long had passed since our last “measurable” snowfall.
I used quotation marks because “measurable” is the term used by weather forecasters. I’m not denying its appropriateness. Rather, I am wondering how else they could have described whatever snow we’ve had: I think many people didn’t even know that any had fallen. For that matter, I can’t remember the last real (I know that’s even more vague than “measurable!”) snow we’ve had.
Like other such racks in New York and a few other cities, it’s at the end of a parking lane that’s supposed to serve as a “barrier” between the bike and traffic lane. Too often, though, drivers turn it into a passing lane. On one occasion, a ride-share driver barged into the Crescent Street lane a couple of SUV lengths behind me, blaring his horn and his mouth. I have seen other incidents like it.
That is the reason I don’t use those racks:
I don’t know whether the driver who “taco’ed” that rear wheel and frame did so deliberately. If they did and were caught, I can imagine their defense: “I didn’t see it!”
That is what a driver in Portland claimed after causing this:
That bike was its owner’s sole means of transportation. Worse yet, she—Cole—witnessed its destruction from across the street. In talking to the driver who made the claim she deemed “dubious,” she noticed that his SUV, which took out a whole row of bikes in addition to hers, had no license plates. She got his name and contact information and contacted the police who, not surprisingly, didn’t seem interested.
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She would appreciate monetary help in buying a new bike. I have to wonder whether the owner of the wrecked bike at the end of my block could replace it. I don’t have to wonder, however, about this: whether other bikes have met untimely ends in supposedly “safe” bike parking corrals.
If you want to contribute to Cole’s next bike, you could send to her CashApp account—$colesodcash—or to Jonathan Maus, the etditor and publisher of Bike Portland, who will forward it to her.
(The first two photos are mine. The others are from Bike Portland.)
Racks, handlebar bags, panniers, saddle bags, baskets: They come in all shapes and sizes. About the latter: some come in "small," "medium" and "large." But catalogues usually list their carrying capacities. For racks, it's expressed in weight. But, for bags and baskets, volume is usually more relevant. So, a catalogue listing is more likely to say that randonneur bag or delivery basket is more likely to say that it can hold whatever-number of cubic inches or liters.
I simply cannot conceptualize any number of cubic or square inches, feet, centimeters or meters. When people ask me about the size of my apartment, all I can tell them is how many rooms I have. Or, when I've gone apartment- (or house-) hunting, I could judge a dwelling's size--and then only in a relative way--by looking at it.
On the other hand, it's pretty easy to visualize four, or whatever number of, liters: We all see bottles and cans with that much water, milk, wine or some other liquid. Some catalogue, I forget which, expressed the carrying capacities of its bicycle luggage by the number of bagels or bottles of beer that could be packed into the handlebar, seat and pannier bags--and backpacks--it sold. I liked that even better.
What would they have said about their rain gear? What is the difference between "water resistant" and "waterproof?" Does a bag or jacket have to repel a certain number of raindrops to earn one designation or another?
What if carrying capacities were expressed in raindrops?
Whenever a winter storm watch or warning is issued, people--especially ever-cynical New Yorkers like me--wonder, "Is it really going to be all that?" After all, we've heard such forecasts before only to see little more than a few flakes.
Well, this time the National Weather Service, the Governor and Mayor weren't being unnecessarily alarmist. The warning has come true--and, as I write this, the storm isn't nearly over.
William Wordsworth's may have "wandered lonely as a cloud." Would he have stood lonely as a bike parked in a snowstorm? Of course, such a line wouldn't fit into the rhythm and meter of his poem. Perhaps he would have written something different if he'd seen Martie, my commuter on the street, around the corner from my apartment. Hmm...Lonely as Martie? Of course, the poem would have to tell us about her.
